


Adaptations

by popfly



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Gapfillerpalooza, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-21
Updated: 2005-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 04:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/pseuds/popfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gapfiller for season two, episode six. Brian makes a point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adaptations

Things were starting to look up.

Justin warmed up to the computer Brian bought him, and started churning out page after page of bold, angry graphics. They were disturbing as hell, but Brian couldn't care less as long as the "I'll never draw again" drama was over. Justin took a stack of his new stuff to the dean at PIFA and they let him back into the program. Brian came home from work to find him bouncing on the balls of his feet at the end of the kitchen counter, a trademark ear-to-ear grin in place. Brian couldn't resist spinning him around and fucking him standing, taking a mere minute to get his belt undone and his pants around his ankles while Justin dropped his jeans and dug a condom out of Brian's briefcase.

Brian was getting more used to having Justin around every day. He no longer felt flares of annoyance when he came home and the stereo was blaring bad techno, or when Justin channel surfed during commercial breaks when they watched movies on AMC, or when Justin left the cap off of the toothpaste. He didn't notice the sneakers by the door, one on its side, or the socks that never quite made it into the hamper, or the pencil shavings on the desk. He was even starting to like some of the cheesy late-night re-runs that Justin loved, and having things in the cupboard like Pop Tarts, though he'd never actually admit any of those things to Justin.

Grocery shopping was something Brian had never really cared for. He much preferred making a phone call and having food delivered to cooking things himself. He could go weeks without dirtying a pan. Justin insisted they buy real groceries. Not anything fancy, the kid couldn't cook much beyond spaghetti and the jambalaya his mom had taught him how to make, but things like turkey from the deli and boxes of pasta. And Miracle Whip. Brian hadn't eaten Miracle Whip since middle school, when lunch was a bologna sandwich from a brown paper bag.

It wasn't as bad shopping with Justin as Brian had originally thought it would be. Aside from Justin's annoying habit of taking every cereal box off the shelf one by one to read the backs of the boxes, Brian didn't mind the experience much at all. He made the requisite snide comments about each item Justin chose, but Justin brushed them off like he always did, and on the whole they got through the weekly trips without a snag.

Until the guy with the goatee and the leather jacket at the Shop and Save, and his low-toned comments about the biggest stud on Liberty Avenue being in a relationship. He'd said the word like it was dirty, and every time it repeated in Brian's head it sounded worse and worse. Brian had to leave Justin contemplating brands of grape jelly to find goatee guy at the check-out, taking his card and smirking at him as he unloaded his basket on the belt.

Brian fucked him to prove a point. To the goatee guy, to himself, and he ended up proving it to Justin as well. The point that Brian was still the biggest stud on Liberty Avenue, he most certainly was *not* in a relationship. He could still fuck whoever he wanted whenever he wanted. Justin was just living with him.

Justin got the point. He heard it loud and clear.

And he left. 

Just when things had been looking up.

Brian waited for long moments after the loft door slammed, waiting to see if Justin would come back. He didn't. Brian took a long shower and then stood at the top of the bedroom steps, watching the door. He padded across the floor with a towel around his waist, turning off the computer and the lights in the kitchen. He stood with his hand on the door lock for a minute before turning it and going back to the bedroom.

He laid in bed and tried to fall asleep, but things felt wrong. The bed felt empty and the loft was too quiet. Which was ironic considering the amount of complaining Brian did about how much noise Justin made when he was home.

Brian flung the covers aside and got to his feet. He needed to get out. He needed to do something that besides wondering when Justin was coming home.

What he needed was a drink.


End file.
